


Pride, Prejudice, and Coffee

by AdorableDoom



Category: Avengers: Age of Ultron - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, a lot bad puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 18:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6126703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdorableDoom/pseuds/AdorableDoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Clint wanted to do was get some coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pride, Prejudice, and Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Some mild biphobic comments.

     "Aw coffee no!"   
      Clint flicked the switch once, twice and then about fifty more times but still nothing happened. He sighed heavily, scrubbing a bandaid covered hand over his face. It was official, the coffeemaker was dead. He briefly considers taking it apart to try and figure out what was wrong with it but remembered what happened when he tried to do that with the toaster (and how long it took for his eyebrows to grow back) and decided against it. Clint patted the ancient machine sadly. He'd only been back stateside less than twelve hours after spending a week running for his life and getting shot at, was a little coffee too much to ask?  
    Great. Now he'd actually have to put on pants and leave the apartment today. Great. Just great. Grumbling and cursing under his breath, Clint retrieved a pair of jeans from his floor that looked at least semi clean and headed out in search of coffee.

      One of Nat's favorite things to tease him about is his terrible sense of direction. "If your apartment was any better you'd probably get lost in there too," she laughed the third (or fifth whatever) time she'd had to go looking for him after he'd gotten off on the wrong floor at the Triskellion. And yeah, okay, maybe she had a point but Clint is certain that coffee shop Sharon is always raving about is just a couple blocks from his place. Or at least he thought that's what she said. Two blocks up and make a left?   
     No wait maybe it was three blocks down and make a right. He tries texting Sharon for the address before remembering she's in Germany on assignment for at least a week and probably isn't in a position to answer texts. Ten blocks later and still no coffee shop. Awesome. As if this day couldn't get any---  
     Rainbows.  
     Clint blinked several times in confusion, thinking maybe sleep deprivation and lack of caffeine was making him imagine thing but no he'd turned a corner and suddenly the entire block was covered in rainbows. A first he thinks maybe it's some kind of party or maybe a flash mob like the ones Daisy kept trying to organize before a couple of kids brushed past him carrying large homemade signs (The Gay Agenda: Spend Time With Family, Be Treated Equally, Buy Eggs and Clint's personal favorite: Roses are Red, violets are blue, I'm Ace as hell but I love you featuring a giant purple heart that left a trail of glitter behind the person carrying it). "Cool signs!" he called after them which made them both grin proudly. "You wouldn't happen to know if there was a coffee shop around here would you?" Hey it was worth a shot.   
The kids seemed to consider this but shook their heads. Clint barely smothered a disappointed sigh. "Thanks anyway," he said tiredly. He should just go back home and go to bed for a few days. "I think there's a booth selling coffee and muffins," the kid with the Ace sign and brightly colored orange hair offered, gesturing through the crowd with their sign, "it's just past the craft tables." Clint could've cried.  
    "Thanks!" he called over his shoulder to his new favorite person as he left himself get swallowed up by the crowd. Although he'd been able to see the craft tables the kid had pointed out just a few feet away, navigating his way through the sea of people proved to be more difficult than he expected. Everybody he passed seemed to be handing out flyers, stickers, and buttons and you couldn't travel more than a couple feet without being stopped to sign this petition or that petition. And of course Clint stopped to sign them all and took every button and sticker offered to him. He was planing on covering his SHIELD uniform with the buttons.  
    It needed more color anyway.   
    He'd finally made it past the craft tables several hours (okay maybe he was being a little dramatic) later and could see the small card table filled with paper cups and loaded with delicious looking chocolate chip muffins. Was their ever a more beautiful sight? Clint was no poet but if he was he would've composed a sonnet about such beauty. He was nearly there (just a couple feet!) when he heard it. "Look, you seem nice and everything but you're basically straight, that's what I'm getting from this."   
    The tone is self righteous and condescending enough that it actually stops him short. The irritating let-me-speak-to-your-manager, what-do-you-mean-you-won't-accept-my-two-month-expired-coupon voice was coming from a guy in a red sweatshirt towering over a small folding table covered in brightly colored knit hats, scarfs, and gloves done is various pride flag colors with a small hand painted sign that read: Cutie-Bi Knits in elegantly messy handwriting. Clint rolled his eyes so hard he was pretty sure he could actually see his brain cells dying. Seriously dude? Who said things like that?  
    The person sitting behind the table, scratch that, the adorable person, no the gorgeous person sitting behind the table was looking up in the guy in barely disguised annoyance from beneath her massive sun hat. "Gay or straight, you have to pick a side," the jerk went on, seemingly heedless to the death glare he was receiving. And yeah, no way in hell was Clint just going to stand there and let him talk to anyone like that-- The woman looked up at the smug guy and flashed him a massive smile and okay she had an amazing smile (focus Barton!) "Only a Sith deals in absolutes," she said simply.  
    Okay, it was a official, that was his soulmate.  
    The guy stared at her for several long moments, sputtering indigently before flushing brightly and stomping off through the crowd. "Have a nice day!" the woman called cheerfully after him. Clint let out a snort of laughter that caused the woman to glance his way and grin widely. "That was the most badass thing I've ever seen and I'm a spy so I've seen some pretty hardcore stuff," Clint said, turning his back on the coffee and coming to stand beside the small table.   
    That got a small laugh as the woman looked him up and down with a raised eyebrow. God she had a great laugh. "You're a spy huh?" she grinned. "Top secret spy." Although it didn't seem possible, she actually seemed to smile wider.  
    "Well, your secret's safe with me," she said. Clint tried to lean casually on the table and give her his best flirty smile only to trip over his own feet and nearly fall flat on his face. Thankfully he managed to catch himself in time and she was still smiling. "You wanna sit down before you fall down," she offered, motioning to the empty chair beside her, "my roommate won't be back for awhile." Clint gratefully took the offer and sat down beside her.   
     "I'm Laura," she said, offering purple nailed hand to him. Yep, definitely his soulmate. Clint took her hand in his and shook it. "Nice to meet you Laura, I'm Clint." "You want some coffee? You look like you could use it," she said, retrieving a battered thermos from the massive purse at her feet.   
     "Laura, will you marry me?"   
      Three years later, at the same festival, he asks again and she says yes.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by queerlaurabarton on tumblr and all her great headcanons about Clint and Laura.


End file.
